


silent sense of content

by enigmatickal



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: (canon defiant), Declarations Of Love, Domestic Bliss, Fix-It, Fluff, Gen, Happy Ending, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, because i don't know how to write sexy things, ed's neck kink makes an appearance, happy endings and all that good stuff, he's absolutely gagging for it bless him, i love these two so much yikes, it gets mildly steamy but not very, oswald being a dad to martin, post-4x15
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-09
Updated: 2018-07-09
Packaged: 2019-06-07 16:58:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15223661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enigmatickal/pseuds/enigmatickal
Summary: In the month following that near-miss at the docks, they settled into a comfortable domesticity Ed had never experienced anywhere but at the manor.(Post-4x15 fix-it fic, because I refuse to accept any universe in which these two don't end up happily in love together. Title taken unimaginatively from Amy Winehouse's 'Wake Up Alone', for obvious reasons.)





	silent sense of content

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: ["silent sense of content"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18131891) by [Alena_Vespertilio](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alena_Vespertilio/pseuds/Alena_Vespertilio)



In the month following that near-miss at the docks, they settled into a comfortable domesticity Ed had never experienced anywhere but at the manor. He knew it wasn’t the place itself but its inhabitants that made it what it was: Martin, quietly mischievous in a way that made him think of Oswald as a child, was a surprisingly welcome addition to the household. And Oswald himself, whose face Ed had thought he would never see again outside of his dreams, was there every morning at the breakfast table, slathering his eggs with spicy mustard and talking as if nothing had changed since Ed’s first morning out of Arkham. He didn’t believe in miracles, but no other word could describe the infinite impossibility of this fact.

Martin had declined to return to school; the other children were “annoying” and “asinine”, and he could do without their constant harassment. Oswald had spent the better part of a week carefully crafting a unique curriculum for his little protégé, most of which he had assured them both would have been wasted on Martin’s peers, and nearly all of which was at least slightly illegal. Martin’s enthusiasm for this course of study was boundless, as was Oswald’s. Ed’s anatomy and forensics lessons were a favourite, a fact which continually surprised and pleased him.

They had both been reticent to approach anything beyond the grounds of the Van Dahl estate. Talk of what had happened during their long separation was non-existent, and their time had been filled with simple domestic tasks for the most part. They cleaned from room to room, cleared out boxes and spare wardrobes and rearranged things to their liking. Oswald’s leg prevented him from doing any heavy-lifting, but he was more than happy to order Ed around and watch as he grumbled under his breath about getting someone else to do the work for them. But neither of them was willing to let a stranger intrude on this calm bubble, and Ed would end each day feeling satisfied to have made himself useful, as if shoving around furniture could make up for everything that had passed between them. It was a start, at least.

He lowered himself into his favourite seat in front of the fire with a slight _oof._ He’d never been athletic, and the effects of moving heavy objects all day were starting to show in various aches and pains. As he sipped his evening glass of wine he kept his mind carefully empty of the burgeoning need to say something, _anything_ to Oswald to open up what seemed to have closed between them. This was made infinitely more difficult by the radio burbling a familiar melody from above the fireplace, but turning it off felt like an admission of defeat. He let the tune continue in the back of his mind like static, trying to focus on what still needed to be done in the attic tomorrow and nothing else, with limited success.

Oswald’s presence at his side felt sudden; he must have been doing an even worse job than he’d thought of keeping his mind clear.

“Martin is making magnificent progress,” he plucked Ed’s glass from his hand and took a sip as he sat. Ed hoped Oswald didn’t notice his cheeks redden.

“What was it today? More politics?”

Oswald shook his head, “History. Alexander the great and the Gordian knot.”

He gave Ed a meaningful look, and Ed tried his best not to avert his gaze.

“Oswald, I—” he began, at the same time as Oswald said, “Ed, I have to tell you—”.

They both stopped and Oswald chuckled, but Ed couldn’t muster up a laugh through the lump in his throat.

“You first,” said Oswald.

Ed floundered, grasping at random for the words to say what he knew needed to be said. He’d hoped he could just start talking and rely on momentum to get him through, but now he’d faltered at the starting line. Finally, he settled on opening with a question to ease himself into it.

“Do you know this song?”

Oswald shook his head, a bemused smile playing around the corners of his mouth.

“You sang it to me once — well, not you, it was just my imagination. After I... _after,_ when I thought you were gone, I used to talk to you. I was taking these pills Barbara gave me, not sleeping, not eating. I had this plan. I was going to become the Riddler, show myself I could be someone, without you. It was the only thing that kept me going. But even then, it was all about you, Oswald.”

He rose and started pacing back and forth in front of the fire, rubbing his temples so hard it hurt. Oswald sat silent and motionless, still holding Ed’s glass.

“I’ve told you before how I sometimes see things. I kept seeing you. You kept telling me I needed you still, that there was ‘no Edward Nygma without the Penguin’. I was so glad to have you back,” He felt tears building behind his eyes and turned to face the fire. Deep breaths. Once he’d finished, the ball would be in Oswald’s court. And hadn’t he already proved that he would always play fairly with him?

He turned back to face Oswald and recited the words he’d practiced over and over to himself. He had to get this right, “I lied to you at the docks when I said I didn’t love you. I was stubborn and stupid and I just had this _compulsion_ to see things through. After _everything,_ I couldn’t let you win. It was so stupid _,_ _I’m so stupid_ —”

Oswald, who had leapt up at some point during this monologue, silenced him with a kiss. It was furious and clumsy and heart-shakingly tender, and Ed was so glad he hadn’t seen it coming or he might have fainted.

Oswald let go of his face and wrapped his hands around Ed’s waist, rolling his eyes, “Couldn’t you have put that big brain of yours to use and realised that I wouldn’t have brought you back here with me if I didn’t love you? Ed, you idiot, I love you. I trust you. Because I _know_ you.”

This was followed by more furious kissing. Ed had very little practice and Oswald none, so it was ungainly and messy and they both giggled like schoolgirls when their teeth clicked together. Ed felt like his chest was filled with helium, he might bob up and touch the ceiling he was so light. Oswald led him back to the couch by the wrist and Ed followed bonelessly, nearly collapsing on top of him in eagerness.

“Just a moment, Ed. I have something to say before we continue.” Ed’s look must have showed his consternation, because Oswald took Ed’s hand in both of his and kissed his knuckles, “Good things, I promise.”

He took a steadying breath, “I’ve been thinking of what to say to you, and I walked in here today with the intention to prove to you that you don’t have to make things up to me. You’re not my housekeeper, Ed. You don’t have to cook and clean and pick up after me to earn your place here — it’s already yours. And if I see you give me that sad puppy-dog look again I’ll have to hit you over the head with my cane, very hard, until you stop.”

“Puppy-dog look?”

“You’re doing it right now, you utterly ridiculous creature. Listen to me. I’m not angry with you. I forgive you,” Oswald’s smile turned playful, “And now it’s my turn to make things up to _you,”_ his gaze swept down across Ed’s mouth to his neck, followed by his lips.

“Oh, _Oswald_.”

It didn’t matter in the least that Oswald had absolutely no idea what he was doing; Ed was in ecstasy, hands clutching at the back of Oswald’s waistcoat for dear life and gasping like he was running out of oxygen. His eyes shot open when Oswald ripped open his shirt and a button nearly took his eye out.

Ed squeaked, “ _What are you doing?_ ”

“As I explained to Martin earlier, sometimes the best solution to a problem is to simply destroy any obstacles indiscriminately. Your buttons were an obstacle,” explained Oswald, looking exceedingly pleased with himself as he returned his attention to Ed’s neck, hands roaming his chest. Ed’s immediate moan in response was more than enough reward. For a moment Ed’s incoherent babbling was the only noise in the room besides the crackling of the fire and the radio, until footsteps on the stairs reminded them they were not alone.

“I forgot we had a child.”

Oswald seemed to find this hilarious for some reason, and as Ed looked up at the man still perched above him, black hair a bird’s nest and eyes shining, they both laughed deliriously. Oswald managed to roll off him, cursing at the twinge in his leg, while Ed held his ruined shirt across his chest in a last-ditch effort to make himself presentable.

When Martin entered he said nothing, as usual, but the knowing lilt to his expression was enough to make Ed blush and clutch his clothes more tightly. Martin scribbled onto his pad and held up a message.

_I’m going to have a bath before dinner. Can I have bubbles?_

Oswald smiled indulgently, “Of course. I’ll be up in a minute to get them. Fill it right up — dinner will be late tonight.”

Martin nodded and gave them both a look before walking back up the stairs and pointedly closing the bathroom door loud enough to echo through the manor.

“I think he knows,” Oswald giggled, and Ed leant over to lay a peck on the end of his nose, “that boy misses nothing. Not that he could help but hear you squawking.”

Ed opened his mouth to argue, but Oswald shut him up. He shut him up so thoroughly, in fact, that it was a minute before Oswald could extricate himself from their embrace and nodded towards the ceiling.

“I’ll be right back.”

He turned to leave, and Ed reached out to hold him by the crook of his elbow.

“I just have to say— you’ve said it to me twice now, so it’s my turn. I love you, Oswald.”

He had a feeling his expression might have been a bit puppy-dog at that moment, but Oswald didn’t hit him over the head with his cane. He only nodded and said with a smile, “I know.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading my fic!!! I hope you enjoyed it. Comments, constructive or or otherwise, are greatly appreciated, as I'm extremely out of practice at writing fiction.


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